


An Emergence of Stars

by Kitkatkimble



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fictional Religion & Theology, Humour, LGBT+ Characters, Worldbuilding, what high fantasy should look like if it wasn't ALWAYS THE SAME
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatkimble/pseuds/Kitkatkimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want us," Tenko pointed to the three of them, "to travel across half the world and through incredibly dangerous, rural territory, in order to find someone to - what, unpossess you?"</p><p>"I told you, it's not really possession." Nkanyezi rolled her eyes. "And yes, that was the general idea."</p><p>Marjani rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This is why we don't let you make the plans."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast ensemble, and added commentary.

Nkanyezi: a half-Human and charmer who enjoys Trouble

Marjani: a professional cynic, and Nkanyezi’s better half

Tenko Ueno: could have been a mad scientist if he weren’t quite a sensible sort of fellow

 

Natsu Yukimura: a scholar and part-time explosives expert

Highguard Imani: the leader of the Guardians of Korowe

Ley Guardian Deonte: a lovely mage who did not read the job description before applying

Ashaanti: a skilled and secretive ranger

High Priest Imamu: the highest of priests of Asha

 

Amunet: reportedly the most powerful sorceress in history - not a very nice dinner guest

Sneferu: the keeper of the scrolls of Utephara

 

Asha: elven goddess of life, nature, and death

Khulekani: an ancient elven goddess of war, law, and power

Kisami: dwarven deity of creation, ingenuity, and secrecy


	2. Prologue

There was a wind coming in from the north.

The leaves on the trees shook as it danced through, teasingly, tantalisingly. It swept up through the thick forests and down the high road, stirring the fallen leaves and swirling around the outpost.

“I’ve never seen a wind from the north,” Deonte said, elbows resting on the wooden rail. “What does it herald?”

Imani looked up from her maps. “Wind, I would assume.”

His lips quirked and he turned to face her properly. 

She set them aside and stood, the seat creaking as her weight left it, moving to stand next to him on the balcony. “I’ve never seen a wind from the north either. Mount Firestone has always changed the air patterns in the northern lands.”

“What does it mean?”

She leant forward and pursed her lips. “Summon the Guardians and we shall find out.”

Minutes later, they were swinging themselves up and into the trees, dancing along the canopy with light footsteps. The trees of Korowe were huge, tall beings, blocking the sky and turning the forest floor an emerald colour as the sun shone through. Their branches were thick and sturdy; strong enough to support an elf’s weight for weeks. The canopy, while light, was bolstered by enough branches that with practice, a surefooted elf could run across with few problems.

They passed over the Eiri and Yurni Outposts, and the Wild Frontier, before they reached the northern border. Here, the forest descended into a tangled mess, before dying out completely. Long ago, there had been a volcanic eruption from Mount Firestone, and the land had become fertile. Shortly after, a devastating blight spread, sending sickness across the lands and tainting the soil. Nothing grew around Firestone any more.

Deonte swung down to perch on the last bough, one which stretched out over the bramblethorns and gave him a clear view of the surrounding country.

“It looks the same.”

Imani strode over. She walked solidly for an elf, her step firm and grounding. “No. Smell the wind.”

It was ash, and dirt, and the rich earthy smell that Korowe was known for. But on the edges of his senses, there was something else, something different. It was entwined with the feeling he felt from magic, from deeply primal magic. 

Imani gestured one of her Guardians over, and together the three of them slipped to the forest floor.

Deonte watched curiously as she lead them through the brambles, ducking and weaving gracefully as she wandered deeper into the tangles. Eventually, Imani reached her destination, as she held up a hand for them to stop.

“Try again.”

He did, reaching out with senses that were further than the physical. The smells were the same. The magic was richer. The earth…the earth felt different.

“There is something under the ground,” said the Guardian, an archer named Ashaanti. Ey was one of Imani’s older friends, Deonte thought, but not one he knew well.

“Yes,” was all Imani deigned to reply. She was already moving back, edging through the bramblethorn with more care than she had before. Deonte wondered if it was something he ought to be worried about. Imani worried him often; it was hard to tell what was paranoia and what was true.

There was a heat, a fire lurking beneath his feet. He couldn’t put a name to it. That, more than anything, worried him.

Deonte worried about everything. No one else in Korowe seemed to.

It was harder to swing back up into the forest when they came out of the bramblethorns. The trees seemed taller, the colours too bright, the wind too strong. It all felt subtly different. Perhaps this was what Imani felt when she travelled the forests. 

The Guardians that they had left stationed at the border were conspicuously absent. Even Imani, with her tingly leader senses, couldn’t find them.

“Search the area,” she said, pointing Ashaanti east and Deonte west. “Return immediately if you find anything. Return within ten minutes if you don’t.”

Deonte opened his mouth to make a reply, but Imani shot him a look that clearly conveyed her ideas on insubordination. He nodded, saluted, and shot off west.

The trees were quiet. The faint stirrings of the wind were the only sound, and Deonte could see neither hide nor hair of the missing Guardians. 

He turned to go back, and made his way over the canopy. His footsteps were light, certainly lighter than Imani’s, but he felt loud and obnoxious in the silence.

A shout split the air, and Deonte leapt into a sprint, the branches bowing beneath his weight. He swung down and continued beneath the canopy, keeping his eyes on the ground and looking for the source of the yell. It could have been anyone, but he knew it wasn’t Imani; it did little to ease the tension in his shoulders. 

He spotted Ashaanti backed against a tree, desperately fighting off two Guardians with eir knife. He shouted, swinging the staff from his back, and raced forward.

Three arrows split the air in quick succession, nailing one assailant to the tree by their hand, and catching the other in their feet. Ashaanti seized the opportunity to swing up into the branches above em, breathing heavily.

Imani strode forward, spare arrows dangling loose in her hand and bow already slung over a shoulder. She looked collected, as though her own subordinates regularly turned upon each other. 

“Kibwe, Jengo.”

The Guardians turned to look at her, and Deonte recognised their faces. They were both experienced scouts who were the first responders to border skirmishes. 

Imani didn’t say anything else, simply replaced her arrows and stared them down.

“The clans have spoken,” said Kibwe. “Korowe is lost.”

“The clans?”

“We will not wait while the cities fall around us. I have seen enough death.” Kibwe clenched his jaw and ripped the arrow from his hand with a sharp intake of breath. “It’s a lost cause anyway.”

Imani stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him to eye level. “You are a Guardian of Korowe. Your duty is to your land.”

“There’s no duty when there’s no land,” he replied, and before Deonte could move to stop him, punched Imani solidly in the stomach.

She barely flinched, and tossed him to the forest floor without another glance. “Jengo. How do you speak?”

“There is no hope,” he said, his gaze wary. “The battles oncoming are relentless, and we will lose. I have a family. I need to see them safe.”

“And how does trying to murder your fellow scouts help?”

“Protection in exchange for loyalty.”

“This was a demonstration of loyalty?” Imani’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

“Months,” interrupted Kibwe. “She said that you would never catch on, and you didn’t. She was right about you, right about the future of Korowe. What can you offer us? The smoking ruin of a city and some second rate replacement? No. I would see my family safe with someone who has the power to protect them.”

“Do they know about this? Your family?” She knelt down next to Jengo, ripping out one of the arrows. “Do they know that you are a kinslayer, a traitor, a fugitive?”

There was no response, and Deonte stepped forward.

“Let them atone,” he offered, putting a hand on Imani’s shoulder as she stood. “They can still be useful, even without being able to trust them.”

Imani shook her head. “I’m not going to murder them in cold blood.”

She turned, leaving Jengo pinned to the ground and Kibwe seething next to him. “You are on your own. You are not welcome in settlements, and in the Guardians. Should you regret your actions, you know where to find me. Until then, let us hope your instigator has shelter for you, because you will find none in Korowe.”

With that, she clambered back up into the trees, and Deonte and Ashaanti exchanged glances before following her into the forest.


	3. In Which We Meet Our Protagonists

Setsun was a quiet village. It was situated at the top of a wide mesa that dropped off into ledges and crevices, which were often filled with excited children or, occasionally, goats. The houses were perched on the bigger ledges, leading back into the mesa itself. The dwarves had made such engineering quick and easy.

Like many villages in the area, Setsun was made up of sun elves and deep dwarves. Unlike other villages, the races had not split off into sections or areas for themselves. Rather, everyone lived in a cheerful kind of harmony that was rarely tampered by rampant racism. The people of Setsun simply had too much on their hands to worry about someone’s ears, eyes, or height.

Marjani, daughter of Yuweza, was reading a book on the main balcony of her house. She had a clay cup of tea next to her, and the earth beneath her feet was warm from the sun.

She wiggled her toes in the warmth.

“Wahoo!”

A dark skinned blur shot past Marjani, and she looked up from her book in a panic. Another, smaller, blur threw itself off after the first, and Marjani tossed her book aside to hurry to the edge of the terrace.

“Hi, ‘Jani!” Nkanyezi waved from where she was free-falling off the edge of the next ledge, and Marjani felt her heart stop. “Come join us!”

Tenko followed quickly with a jaunty salute, and then they both dropped from sight.

Nkanyezi and Tenko were Marjani’s dearest friends, and greatest enemies. Tenko was a cleric in training. He was in service to Kisami, the dwarven goddess of engineering and architecture, and had been serving at the local temple since Marjani met him. He was a deep dwarf, and had intelligent brown eyes with laughter lines, and neat black hair. His hands were callused heavily despite his slim fingers, which Nkanyezi teased him for mercilessly, although he usually found a way to get her back.

Nkanyezi was something else.

Marjani was intimately familiar with Nkanyezi. Their parents had been friends, and they too had been friends since they were teens. Marjani knew every thought that went through Nkanyezi’s head. Not only was Nkanyezi an incredibly fast talker, but she was a genius. While Marjani was smart, she knew that Nkanyezi was a prodigy, in more ways than one. 

However, she was also utterly childish and had a self-destructive streak a mile wide.

“Nkanyezi!” she yelled.

Her teasing voice wafted up from a lower ledge. “Coming, Mama!”

“Don’t call me that!”

Marjani had half a mind to scale down the cliffs and talk some sense into her, but she knew the idea was futile and ultimately pointless. Nkanyezi wasn’t going to learn until something really drastic made her change her mind.

Not ten minutes later, Nkanyezi and Tenko hauled themselves over onto Marjani’s balcony, and collapsed back with matching grins.

“Don’t look at me like that, ‘Jani,” Nkanyezi said, pouting. “You should join in, loosen up.”

“I will join in when you stop trying to injure yourself in reckless, harebrained, schemes,” Marjani said stiffly. 

“It wasn’t as dangerous as some of the other things she’s done,” Tenko pointed out, and while he was correct, Marjani did not consider it a point in Nkanyezi’s favour.

They settled down, Marjani retreating to her book while Tenko and Nkanyezi amused themselves by throwing stones from the ledge. 

“I’m going to Getuchi soon,” Tenko said, and Marjani looked up. “I’ve been offered an apprenticeship to one of the master engineers.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t let you within ten miles of the city with those clothes,” Nkanyezi said, laughing and swinging her legs. “You’re nowhere near refined enough for the high and mighty of Getuchi.”

“Don’t be rude.” Marjani looked to Tenko. “When are you leaving?”

“Next week, maybe the week after.” He grinned, a little nervously she thought. “I won’t be able to visit often, they work hard over there.”

“We’ll come and kidnap you. Or you’ll come screaming back, unable to bear being away from my beautiful self for so long.” Nkanyezi shrugged. “Either way, you’ll come back.”

With the ease that comes with long practice, Marjani tuned out Nkanyezi’s commentary and focused on Tenko. “We’ll miss you.”

Tenko smiled wider. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m away.”

“Thankfully, that leaves us with quite a lot.” Nkanyezi ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Marjani. No funny business from her.”

“Promise?”

She punched him in the shoulder. “Sure thing.”

Marjani slipped down and sat on Nkanyezi’s other side, looking over towards where the spiralling towers of Getuchi were. It was a clear day, and from this side of Setsun, she could see all the way across the plains and to the great Moonstone City. It was said to be the largest city where both elves and dwarves intermingled freely; some said that Humans could be found there when the rains changed, too, and Marjani believed it. After all, Nkanyezi was half-Human, and she had been born in Getuchi. 

Getuchi and Setsun were far away, despite the clear visibility. It was a solid four days of travelling to get from Setsun to the capital, and few made the trip. It was too expensive, and there were bandits and wild animals on the road. 

“You have an escort?” she asked.

Tenko shook his head. “I’ll be okay. It’s a pilgrimage of sorts.”

“We’re going to come and check on you,” Nkanyezi said, with an uncompromising kind of finality that indicated a decision made. “One month, and then you’ll see us.”

Marjani pursed her lips, but offered no resistance.

Tenko stood, and heaved them both up. “Come on, let’s think of happier things. Nkanyezi, you said you had something you wanted to show me?”

She frowned, and then her expression melted into something more conniving. “Oh, yes. Marjani, come with us. You’ll like this.”

“Somehow,” she replied, “I doubt it.”

* * *

 Marjani went, eventually, because it was Nkanyezi and she had never been able to say no to Nkanyezi. 

“It’s a self powered cart,” said Tenko excitedly. “It doesn’t run for very long, but when you wind this up,” here he turned a crank on the side of the rickety contraption, “it coils a spring, and - ”

The cart slowly began to move, tottering along the stretch of road like a oxen-cart. Nkanyezi leapt on, standing and doing an ungraceful little jig. 

“They’re the newest invention in Getuchi,” Tenko said proudly. “One day I want to build something even better, something that can go forever!”

“I hope you do.” Marjani followed along on the ground, sedately trailing Nkanyezi and watching for the inevitable tumble.

“You could sell it and be rich and then invite me to your personal work room!” Nkanyezi said. “You could have metals, and all the wood you needed, and proper knives and tools…”

“I’m not quite there yet.” Tenko patted the cart as it trailed to a halt. “Besides, I think you’re far more likely to wind up doing something extravagant and making more money that we’ve ever seen.”

Nkanyezi shrugged, utterly immodest.

“Are you taking this to Getuchi?” Marjani asked. “To carry your things?”

He nodded. “I have too much to take alone, and I don’t want to take any of my family’s oxen. They’re still needed here.”

They put the cart away, but just as they were about to split up and return to their own homes, Marjani heard the sounds of a commotion coming from the main circle.

Tenko heard it too, and together they jogged down the hill, dragging a laughing Nkanyezi.

There was a dwarven woman standing on a podium in the centre of the circle, gesticulating wildly. Marjani pushed her way through the crowd and darted into a nearby shop, jogging up the steps to the second floor balcony. From her vantage point, she could see and hear the woman’s speech.

She was talking about the usual paranoid rubbish. All Humans were evil, there was a war on in the South, and the Getuchin citizens were doing nothing to help anyone with anything and it was all their fault. Marjani preferred not to listen, but there was someone yelling back from the crowd, and the speaker was only getting more and more riled up.

She turned to comment to Nkanyezi, but found only Tenko. He noticed and spun around, searching. 

“Alright, alright, break it up.” Nkanyezi was sauntering up to the front of the crowd, and ascended to the podium. “Thank you for your stirring speech, we all loved it, but it’s time to go.”

Marjani frowned, and slipped past Tenko to run down the stairs.

Nkanyezi was still talking. “Ai, right? Brilliant. You’ve got two boys waiting for you at home, I suggest you wander after them. Yoshikawa here is more than capable of arguing with himself, what with his stunning intelligence and oratory skills.”

She patted the woman on the back and moved down to the crowd. “Thank you for coming, we’ll see you next week. Well, probably not you, Miss Eri, but we’re glad you made it today. Yes, thank you, Nwabudike, as usual your input is irreplaceable. I didn’t know you could do that with a stick, but you’re welcome to try.”

Marjani tugged at Nkanyezi’s sleeve, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking this up. It would have escalated.”

“When did you start to care about harbingers?”

Nkanyezi shrugged. “Didn’t feel like hearing how Humans are evil abominations that will destroy all we hold dear.”

Marjani pursed her lips, but was saved from having to reply by Tenko’s timely arrival.

“Is it just me or are there more and more people claiming that wars are inevitable and that we’re all going to die?” he asked. 

“I certainly don’t intend to. I’m going to become immortal and be amazing and powerful forever.” Nkanyezi fluffed her hair, and Marjani rolled her eyes. “Just you wait.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Marjani pinched the bridge of her nose and scowled. “Tenko, I will see you tomorrow.”

“And me?”

“I’m very annoyed with you.”

Nkanyezi didn’t seem perturbed, but then again, Marjani hadn’t expected her too. She had long since resigned herself to Nkanyezi’s lack of interest in her feelings in a situation. “You’ll forgive me. See you!”

She sauntered off, dragging Tenko behind her with a jaunty whistle. 

Marjani sighed, turned, and strode off back to her house.


	4. A Few Bad Decisions

There was something wrong.

Nkanyezi couldn’t say what it was, only that there was something in the air that made her fingers itch and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Had he still been in Setsun, she would have gone to Tenko, as he was a welcome distraction for pointless paranoia. Marjani would try to ‘allay her fears’ or, even worse, get her to talk about it. Nkanyezi was not interested in talking about it.

She sighed and pulled on her sandals.

It was very late - or perhaps very early - but Nkanyezi could still make out the pathways leading out of the village. The grass brushed against her knees as she made her way through the savannah, prickly and tickling against her skin. 

She made her way towards the hill her mother had shown her, years ago when Nkanyezi still thought it amusing to run around the plains. Now, it was a nice spot to fall asleep. With a yawn that made her bones rattle, she climbed up and awkwardly clambered up the lone tree, settling herself in its boughs and shutting her eyes.

For a long while, she lay there, sleep eluding her. She swore, climbing higher, and trying to think of something to distract herself. After an hour of shifting, she scowled, rolled over, and dropped from the tree.

There was a rustling sound from somewhere behind her, and she stood, inspecting the tree curiously. There were no animals this close to Setsun, and she couldn’t see anything. She crouched down, examining the base.

There was a hole leading into the hill.

She poked it.

Something _pulsed,_ and she found herself sliding down into the hole without a further thought. 

The earthen walls pressed in, slowly becoming closer and closer until Nkanyezi could turn in a circle and feel all the walls around her. The only source of light was the faint moonlight above, and yet, strangely, she could still see. It felt tight, but not uncomfortable.

The tunnel was nearly too small for her to fit through, until suddenly she dropped perhaps seven feet and found herself crouching in an empty cavern. The walls were straight, hewn into the soil with all the care and precision of a dwarven mine, but with none of the aesthetic intent. 

She stood, and frowned, and looked up towards the tunnel shaft.

It was gone.

* * *

It had been three days since Marjani had last seen Nkanyezi. Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared, but this was _Nkanyezi._ She almost always demanded Marjani’s attention during the day, because Marjani was hopeless when it came to Nkanyezi and couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but fond annoyance. There was also a hint of awe, but Marjani would never admit that to anyone, because then Nkanyezi would know and never let her live it down.

“Nkanyezi? Nkanyezi!”

Marjani knocked harder, straining her ears. There was no sound, nothing to indicate that anyone was home, and she bit her lip. There was only one other way into Nkanyezi’s house, and it looked as though she had no other option. Tenko was gone, Nkanyezi was missing, and Marjani was reaching new heights of worry.

She made her way back to her own home, slipping in and darting out towards the balcony. Stretching her arms, she limbered up her upper body, preparing herself for the strain.

Then, she carefully began to scale the side of the hill, circling around in the direction of Nkanyezi’s home and, consequently, her balcony. 

There were a few places where the earth crumbled beneath her fingers, or the rock her foot was balanced on shifted, but she didn’t fall. Marjani was light on her feet, and she had impeccable balance. She soon heaved herself over the balcony and draped herself over Nkanyezi’s floor. 

The house was still and quiet, and when Marjani stood and investigated, she found nothing. Nkanyezi’s bed wasn’t made, but that was normal. Her sandals were gone, though, which meant that she hadn’t sleepwalked off the balcony.

The small kitchen was clean, a few bowls stacked up on the tabletop that looked to be ready for washing. Nkanyezi’s keys were gone, and the little stand that Tenko had built for coats and cloaks was still hung with Nkanyezi’s clothes. 

“Where are you?” Marjani muttered, before sighing and dropping down onto the sitting mat to think.

* * *

A light flickered, somewhere behind her eyelids. 

“‘Jani? What are you doing here?”

She blinked, frowned, then jerked back as Nkanyezi’s face filled her vision.

“Calm down.” Nkanyezi grinned, but didn’t draw back, so Marjani shuffled backwards and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and now her neck was aching. “You miss me?”

Marjani scowled at her. “Where were you?”

“You’re the one asleep in my house.” Nkanyezi waved the question away. “Turns out Miss Eri saw you trying to break into my balcony - nice work, by the way, very circumspect - and now assumes we’re having a torrid love affair. If she asks, I am an excellent and highly satisfying - ”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Nkanyezi saluted.

Marjani looked up at her, and the irritation in her gut battled against the relief she felt for seeing Nkanyezi safe. “Where were you?”

“Out and about. Come on, I hear there’s something interesting going on in Getuchi and I want to make sure Tenko sees it.”

Somehow, Marjani let Nkanyezi drag her home and pack her bags for her, throwing dresses every which way until Marjani eventually snapped and shoved her from the room.

“Go say something nice to my mother and explain to her why her daughter won’t be around the house to help her with her work,” she said, then shut the curtain in Nkanyezi’s face. 

She turned and rested her back against the wall, letting out a sigh. Nkanyezi was a whirlwind, and Marjani should have expected this. It was only a matter of time before Nkanyezi found another way to scare her.  

She ran her hands over her face and shut her eyes. She didn’t want to travel, but where Nkanyezi went, so did she, because Nkanyezi didn’t concern herself with minor details like lodgings and money and food. Unfortunately, Marjani did.

Her satchel was resting in a chest at the side of the room. Her mother had made it for her, and it was covered in elaborate designs. Yuweza had said that one day, she would teach her daughter how to create the same patterns. She had also said that Nkanyezi was welcome to learn, as pure charm wouldn’t always put food on the table, but Nkanyezi had just laughed and said that she’d leave the fine motor skills to Marjani. 

She folded a few dresses and shawls neatly and pressed them into the bag.

Her mother was going to murder her. There were still orders that needed to be filled, sewing jobs that needed Marjani’s eyes. Yuweza was an accomplished seamstress, but her eyesight was slowly dimming, and she relied on Marjani to ensure that everything was as it should be.

“Oi, ‘Jani!” Nkanyezi knocked on the door perfunctorily, then swanned in. “We’d better go quick, I don’t know how much longer the peace’ll last before your mother comes after our hides.”

“This is not a good idea.”

Nkanyezi swung Marjani’s bag over her shoulder, where it joined one of her own. “We’re just going up to Getuchi, how bad could it possible be?”

And that, Marjani thought, was how wars were started.

Nkanyezi lead the way, dancing out of the house and down the road. Marjani followed at a more sedate pace, looking back every other minute incase her mother changed her mind. 

She hadn’t even said goodbye. Did that make her a bad person, or a self-preserving one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hello it is i, this chapter is for feathers because she is very nice and lovely and says nice things so this is for her


	5. Marjani Does Not Like Caravans

Marjani rubbed her ankle and looked over at the caravan driver. During the first day of walking, she and Nkanyezi had met a caravan from Youseki, the southern twin city to Getuchi. Nkanyezi had spent five minutes chatting with the man, and then proceeded to hop onto one of the carts and gesture for Marjani to come onboard as well.

“It’s always good luck to have a cleric on board,” Nkanyezi had explained, waving at Marjani’s dress.

“I’m not a cleric.”

“I know that. You know that. They don’t.”

“And if we get into trouble?”

Nkanyezi shrugged and grinned. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Marjani could understand the ruse. She wore long dresses and kept her hair in tight braids, both of which were often associated with sun elf clerics. Nkanyezi had often used that in games when they were children, playing games in the street. 

Now she was sitting at the back of a caravan, curled under the shade of the cloth and nestled between two bags of grain. Nkanyezi was just ahead of her, at the driver’s seat of the next cart, being taught how to steer oxen. 

Nkanyezi’s brown skin was darkening under the unrelenting sun, and the cart driver offered her his hat. She accepted it, and stuck it on her hair on a jaunty angle. On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous.

Marjani curled up tighter and shut her eyes. 

The trail between Getuchi and Youseki was wide and well worn, surrounded by open plains and tall baobabs. The grass was brittle and dry, as a result of a drought earlier in the year, and the occasional waterhole was crowded with animals. The spires of Getuchi rose in the distance, gleaming pillars of white and red that were stark against the blue sky.

“So, why are the clerics of the valley travelling to Getuchi?” asked the driver of the cart Marjani was in. He leant over and gave her a smile. “I’ve seen several travelling with other caravans, you know. It was a regular party down at the Halfway Hill.”

Marjani regarded him expressionlessly, which prompted him to talk further. “A whole bunch of priests went in the caravan ahead of ours, and there was a priestess who bailed on an escort to head off to Getuchi.”

He shrugged, and turned back to the oxen. “If you don’t want to say what’s going on, then I’m not going to ask. Whatever it is, it must be serious business.”

She made a noncommittal noise and burrowed deeper into the grain sacks.

They stopped that night for dinner, and Marjani approached Nkanyezi to share the news.

“Getuchi is the City of Miracles,” Nkanyezi said, but she looked thoughtful. “There are many different reasons why priestesses would visit.”

“But in such great numbers, surely that’s not normal?” Marjani argued.  “Priests never go anywhere unless they must; they’re tied to their duty.”

Nkanyezi patted her on the shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Then, as if that was an acceptable response to Marjani’s whirling thoughts, she wandered back off to the campfire, sitting down next to the resident merchant and striking up a conversation.

Marjani was slightly mollified when she returned to her sleeping roll to find a new scarf waiting for her. 

The next day proved much the same, but Nkanyezi appeared to take her thoughts to heart, as she popped up at lunch to toss her a piece of nut bread. 

“I’ve been talking to some of the other travellers - ”

“Who’d’ve known?” Marjani muttered sarcastically.

“ - and they say that they’ve tried talking to the priestesses to find out why they’re all travelling, but none have answered.” Nkanyezi munched her own bread. “Apparently it’s all very hush hush.”

For one reason or another, Nkanyezi deigned to spend the rest of the afternoon with Marjani, tossing nut shells over the side of the caravan and chatting with the driver. She was still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, and appeared blissfully ignorant of her broken sandal strap. Marjani was tempted to point her in the direction of the next waterhole, in the hopes that Nkanyezi would take a hint and a bath, but she suspected it would have little effect. Nkanyezi was selectively ignorant. 

When Marjani settled down that night, Nkanyezi had wandered off. It was only a matter of time until she grew bored. 

Marjani slept lightly that night, and she woke up close to midnight with her heart in her throat, automatically reaching across for the presence in the bedroll next to her. She shook her head, dispelling the images, and noticed Nkanyezi was still gone.

She reached over and pulled her pack closer to her, drawing out a shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders. It was cold at night, colder now that Marjani didn’t have a house to hole up inside. Nkanyezi, in her thin skirt and tunic, would freeze.

She picked up an extra shawl, the new one Nkanyezi had left her, and padded across the grass.

It took a while, but many stubbed toes later, Marjani found Nkanyezi resting against a tree stump, hidden away from the rest of the caravan. She had her legs splayed out wide and her head tipped back, but there was a vulnerability in the confident posture that Marjani found odd.

“You didn’t come back to camp,” Marjani explained when Nkanyezi looked over at her. She held out the scarf. “Here. You’re cold.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

Marjani gingerly sat down next to her, holding her dress up out of the dirt. It seemed odd, that Nkanyezi would still be awake. Odder still that she would be alone. But, Marjani noted with no small amount of amusement, Nkanyezi was nothing if not whimsical.

“Why are you still awake?”

Nkanyezi shut her eyes and pulled the shawl over her head. It caught on her hair and fell around her face, and she looked ridiculous. “Couldn’t sleep, obviously. Not much to do when everyone else is dead to the world.”

“I suppose not.”

Marjani wished Tenko was here.

She fell back against Nkanyezi’s side and propped her foot against a nearby rock.

“You’re freezing,” Nkanyezi said in sharp surprise, shoving her away. “Your shoulders are like ice. Here.”

She balled up the shawl and shoved it back to Marjani. She looked down at it, mind fogged with sleep, then back at Nkanyezi. 

“Uh…”

Nkanyezi was only wearing her tunic and skirt, and a pair of broken sandals. She didn’t wear shawls, hated pants, and Marjani had never seen her touch a vest in her life. 

She almost handed the shawl back, but Nkanyezi turned away, and the conversation was over.

Marjani wasn’t sure how long they stayed there. She might have dozed off at one point, because she remembered Nkanyezi shaking her and tugging her back towards the camp. Perhaps tugging wasn’t the right word; it was probably carrying. Nkanyezi was annoying like that.

There was another shawl on her bed roll when Marjani woke the next morning. She nearly ripped it in half before she folded it neatly and put it in her pack.

* * *

 “Welcome to Getuchi, the City of Miracles.” 

Nkanyezi gestured broadly as the city itself came into view. The twisting spires, pinnacles of dwarven engineering, rose high up into the skies, and Marjani could see the grand tower of the Temple of Asha.

“Climactic, isn’t it?”

Marjani didn’t really go in for dramatics. It was pretty, she supposed, all gleaming white marble and rich red clay. It was also busy. There were maybe two score caravans between them and the entrance, stretching around the curve of the hills and towards the famous Getuchin Gates. Marjani had seen them once before, when she was very little and her mother had taken her and Nkanyezi to the city.

“You should get that sandal fixed,” she said.

It took three hours for their caravan to reach the check point. The caravanserai was completely full, and people of all genders and races were running around, talking and yelling and laughing. Solemn priests from Youseki, a group of excited city elves, swarthy women draped in beautiful scarves. All throughout, deep dwarven guards were wandering from caravan to caravan, checking papers and inspecting goods.

Nkanyezi patted their caravan leader on the cheek, kissed one of her new friends on the hand, and flounced off, leaving Marjani to apologise and actually exchange goods in thanks.

“Where are we going?”

“To see Tenko, first.” Nkanyezi stretched. “Then food.”

“I hope you brought money.”

Nkanyezi laughed and waved it off. “I may be disorganised, but I do remember the necessities.”

Privately, Marjani doubted that.

They wandered through the Getuchin Gates. They were tall and made by dwarven priests of Kisami, and had beautiful inscription engraved down the sides. Hammered rails of iron connected the two pillars at the top, and as they passed through, Marjani could see the signs of sun elven input; names of deities and bright, vibrant colours. 

Nkanyezi apparently knew where she was going, so Marjani resigned herself to losing half an hour simply wandering the city as Nkanyezi inevitably became distracted. With some amusement, she noted that Nkanyezi seemed to have left hours between then and dinner, which meant that they had ample time to get lost before they would be late. 

The city itself was somewhat anticlimactic, if you went in for that sort of thing. Marjani watched indifferently as hawkers ran back and forth, groups of students wandered to tram stops, and the odd carriage passed by. The city guard were mostly dwarves, decked in solid armour and steel helmets. Nkanyezi rapped on one, and got a gentle swat in reply.

For all that deep dwarves appeared menacing, they were actually far gentler than the elves.

Marjani diligently kept track of their position in the city, occasionally glancing at map boards and quietly inquiring of strangers their location. She soon realised that Nkanyezi’s seemingly random jaunt around town was more thoughtful than expected. She was heading in a circle around the suburbs.

Marjani said nothing.

“Oh, this looks interesting,” Nkanyezi eventually said, darting into a shadowed shophouse. Marjani was slower to act. She didn’t trust the cobwebs hanging above the door, or the faint gleam in the windows.

Nkanyezi threw the door open, rocking forward theatrically, and Marjani plunged into the shop after her. 

A chime rang out from the door, and it took a moment for Marjani’s eyes to adjust to the shift in brightness. The shop was neat and tidy, with green cloth hung over the low lying tables. There was a dusty globe in one corner. It looked like a magician’s store, lonely and kempt, but forgotten by everyone else.

“Hello!” Nkanyezi called cheerily. “Anyone home?”

“Because that always ends well.”

Nkanyezi reached to touch the globe. Anticlimactically, no one leapt from the shadows to stop her, so it fell to Marjani to swat her hand away.

She wrapped her shawl tighter and held the hem of her dress above the ground. 

There came the faint sound of thumping from the back room, a few swear words, and then a heavily jewelled girl traipsed out.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “The ravens were being difficult. Everyone was going on about how atmospheric they were, but they’re really just annoying. How can I help you?”

Nkanyezi smiled brilliantly, and Marjani could tell the exact moment that the charm was turned on. It was fascinating, watching Nkanyezi flirt. 

“Your shop looked like the kind of shop owned by someone who knows things,” she said, “and seeing you only proved it.”

The girl blushed, predictably. “Oh, thank you. I’m Chenarah.”

“Nkanyezi.”

They shook hands, and Chenarah didn’t even glance towards Marjani.

“Do you have anything about spirits here?” Nkanyezi asked.

Chenarah bit her lip and frowned. “Let me look. Come, come.”

They ducked behind the curtain, and Marjani busied herself with wiping the dust off the tables.

The sound of chatter and Nkanyezi’s laugh emanated from the back room. The curtain did little to muffle the noise, although at least Marjani was spared having to watch them. Perhaps five minutes later they came out again, and Nkanyezi had an arm thrown around Chenarah’s shoulders.

“Are you finished?” Marjani asked, examining the end of her sleeve. 

“All wrapped up. Thanks, Chena. I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” the girl said, still blushing faintly as she waved Nkanyezi and Marjani out. 

“That was unnecessary,” Marjani said. Her toes were poking out from the end of her dress. She would need to loosen the hem. 

Nkanyezi frowned. “What was?”

“Never mind.”

Marjani felt Nkanyezi’s eyes on her for a minute, before Nkanyezi sighed and shrugged. “We should find Tenko. I’m sure he’s just dying to see us.”

“He doesn’t even know we’re coming, does he?”

“Surprise is the foundation of friendship,” Nkanyezi said wisely, and swung Marjani off in the direction of the Low City.

* * *

 Tenko was not impressed.

Marjani had held the previous record for most unimpressed stare, but Tenko was giving her a run for her money, and worst of all, it was directed at her.

“You’re supposed to be the level headed one,” he said.

“Have you said no to Nkanyezi?”

“Well, not exactly.”

Nkanyezi threw her arms around both of their shoulders. Given that Tenko was somewhat shorter than her, it gave her an awkward angle. “As much as I love it when you fight over me, I’d rather eat first. Tenko, where do you recommend?”

Tenko broke away from the hug and reached around her. There was a map resting on the nearby table. 

“Haven’t learnt the city yet?”

“Nkanyezi, shut up.”

Tenko’s tiny apartment was one of many in the Grand Halls of the Lower City. It had evidence of previous occupants staining the walls, bits of charred wood and warped metal that Marjani really didn’t want to think about. 

She pushed Nkanyezi’s arm off as well, and wandered over to lean against the wall. The ceiling was low, evidently not meant to suit those other than dwarves, and she had to stoop. “Nkanyezi?”

“Hmm?” Nkanyezi turned her head, looking mildly surprised at the inquiry. 

“What were you looking for in that shop earlier?”

She shrugged laconically. “This and that. It looked interesting.”

Tenko’s eyes sharpened, and Marjani knew that he had noticed something. Where Nkanyezi was the people person, Tenko was the more observant one; at least, more observant than Nkanyezi pretended to be. How observant the dissembling woman really was, was anyone’s guess. 

“You wandered around half the city and just happened to stumble across _one_ shop that looked interesting?” Tenko sounded irrepressibly dubious. “Nkanyezi…”

She folded her arms, and there was something in the back of her eyes that Marjani didn’t like. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m just making an observation.” 

“Nkanyezi, you went missing, and when you came back you insisted that we come to Getuchi,” Marjani added quietly. Ignoring Tenko’s sound of shock, she continued, “Tenko may not be calling you a liar, but I am telling you that I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

There was a pause, a silent battle of wills, before Nkanyezi shook her head. “I’m not lying.”

“That’s not the same as telling the truth.” Tenko looked up at her, his smile crooked. “Trust me, I should know.”

Nkanyezi bit her lip. Marjani recognised it; a tiny gesture, but one that signalled that she was thinking about talking. Not her usual nonsensical chatter, but a serious discussion that was bound to be distracting on both sides. 

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Then tell us what you haven’t told us yet.”


	6. A Few More Bad Decisions

Nkanyezi slipped through the darkened tunnels. There was something in the air, a heaviness that she couldn’t put words to. It felt like being underwater, that moment when you take a breath and find some last vestige of air. It sparkled and glittered in her lungs, taunting her for her ignorance. 

The walls were covered in a luminescent fungus that grew in strange runes. It was like Elven, she thought, but gentler, more elegant. Like water pouring into a lake.

She looked around. The cave stretched in two directions. To her left was a straight passageway lined in fungus. To her right, there was a crumbled wall, where one side of a passage had collapsed. It was still. It must have been like that for years. 

She had nothing to defend herself with but her hands, but there was no way out other than through the tunnels. With a brief gulp, she straightened her shoulders and headed down the tunnel with the glow.

The walls were of an architecture she was unfamiliar with. It was deliberate and solid, but she noticed that there seemed to be few corners. The passage wound around in gentle curves, and when she did reach a fork in the road, it peeled off in wide arcs. 

She turned left and hoped for the best.

By the third intersection, she began to notice a pattern in the fungus on the walls. They were more common at the points where the passages diverged, and they appeared to be forming deliberate shapes. Curious, she stepped forward, and scratched some of the fungus off with a stone.

It toppled off easily, losing its light as it fell. Beneath, the stone felt subtly different, as though it had been soaked in salt water and a spark had been sent through. 

She trailed her fingers along it thoughtfully.

It looked like writing. Nothing she recognised, and certainly not the standard high elven runes, but it definitely had the same deliberate shape and form that language had. She ran her fingers along the lines, committing them to memory. 

As she continued down the tunnels, she memorised more of the words, until she began to make hesitant associations. They were names, she thought, like street names on signs. As she went in further and further, the tunnel became wider, and the names began to block up on one exit of an intersection. There was clearly a hub of sorts along this route.

She was right. After a solid five hours of walking, her feet were beginning to tire, and when she finally walked out into a large cavern she could feel nothing but relief. 

The tunnel had widened to become something of a highway, with imposing stone pillars lining a central road. It was cold and quiet, and eerily still to the point that Nkanyezi wanted to shout just to break the silence. 

She followed the highway up to a set of grand double doors that were easily five times her height. They were made of thick stone, some kind of sandy limestone that seemed somewhat out of place. There were carvings on them. Not the same as the tunnel walls - not writing. They were of birds, strange plants, and people with large eyes and thin fingers.

Nkanyezi wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was past the doors, but she didn’t really have much of a choice, did she? It was either adventure into the (unexplored, highly dangerous) caverns, or get even more lost in the horrendous mess of tunnels that she had just navigated through. It was an easy choice. 

“Alright, Nkanyezi, you can do this. Remember what Marjani taught you. Thumb over fist, aim for the solar plexus, run as fast as you can.” She took a breath, and exhaled slowly. “You can do this.”

She steeled herself, then slipped through the gap between the doors.

Magisterial. That was the only word for it. Wide, arching ceilings and lofty pillars. Mosaics swept through the room, twining in and out of the columns with incredible grace. Fountains lined the hall, and the same luminescent fungus from earlier twined across the ceiling, letting out a glow that had Nkanyezi shading her brow.

She walked forward as if in a daze, drawn to the strange altar at the end of the hall. 

All around her, wisps began to form, rising from the low pools and spiralling around the pillars. She laughed, forgetting her fear, and spun around, dancing backwards and beckoning the wisps closer. One or two were brave enough to come forward, darting in close and twirling around her arms as she raised them. They urged her towards the end of the hall, and she went gladly, skipping from stone to stone as she crossed the surrounding pool.

She danced up the steps, wisps circling above her. The altar was lit by fungus, and she could see glyphs encircling it - they were carved into the stone, but still flowed like a river along the natural curves. 

She peered closer. The altar was the wrong shape, widening at one end and tapered at the other. She leant forward, and a wisp came down to waft across the stone, clearing the dust.

It was a sarcophagus.

She stepped back, joy and fascination fading, and a dark sense of fear began to creep up her spine. The wisps floated away, beginning to shake and shimmer in the light of the fungus. The water was cold around her ankles, and she felt something brush against her calf.

Her breath speeding up, she darted back, but the sarcophagus began to glow and she felt herself paralysed. Something _shifted_ in the air.

There’s going to be some kind of undead monster in there, she thought, panic beginning to set in. There’s going to be an undead monster who will eat me and I’ll never get to see Marjani and Tenko again. 

 _Fuck_ that.

She wrenched herself from the paralysis just in time to see the spirit take form. It was a woman, long straight hair framing a face paler than sand. Nkanyezi gasped, filling her lungs with frosted air, then turned and bolted for the doors.

She ducked and spun, as the wisps suddenly turned white and began to follow her, zipping around her like hawks on the hunt. She slipped on the stones, and fell into a roll that saved her from being hit by a bolt of ice.

“Stop.”

The compulsion washed over, and she shook it off, racing for the doors. She could have sworn they weren’t that far away.

Just as she was nearing the final stretch, they slammed shut, two pillars crashing down in front of them. She screamed, back-pedalled, and threw herself out of the way of the debris.

She looked up and saw the spirit.

“Listen.”

The spirit knelt down, her hair falling over her shoulder in rivulets of mahogany. Nkanyezi reeled back an arm to punch her, but the spirit held up a hand, eyes flickering.

“Who are you?”

She was speaking. Nkanyezi forced herself to calm down. She could talk her way out of this. 

“Nkanyezi, daughter of Ziya.” She tried a smile.

The spirit tilted her head, and her hair fell in such a way that Nkanyezi could see the tip of a pointed ear peek out. An elf, then, but none like she had ever met. “I am Isesu.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Isesu stood, and Nkanyezi leapt up, brushing herself down and switching on her charm. “You look lovely, for a spirit. The dress, were you buried in it? Or can you change what you wear by thinking?”

“This is my burial robe,” Isesu said. “It came with me to the afterlife.”

“Which I have now stolen you from.” Nkanyezi laughed nervously. “Oh dear.”

“I cannot feel the spirit world.” She turned, walking slowly through the hall. Nkanyezi followed her. “This hall, it has trapped me here. There are powers at work that are stronger than me.”

“You mean magic?” Nkanyezi frowned. All elves had an instinctive connection to the magic of the earth, but down here, it felt wrong. She had not noticed until Isesu coalesced.

Isesu turned her eyes towards her. “Yes. That is the word.”

Her gaze lingered a moment too long, before it turned sharp as flint. Before Nkanyezi had time to react, Isesu phased in front of her, and plunged a hand into Nkanyezi’s chest.

It felt as though her very heart was being strangled. She gasped, staggering backwards, but Isesu followed, latching on like a vine. She could barely breath for cold. 

She met Isesu’s eyes, and saw pure ice in the purple depths, before her eyes rolled up and she collapsed to the floor.

It was like being hit by a thousand sounds, the smells of millions of colours darting through her fingers. She could feel so much more, things she didn’t even have words for, and at the back of it all, the burning ice of Isesu’s spirit. 

She felt herself get up, stand tall, filled with primal awareness. The wisps were brilliant, and faint echoes of bells ringing could be seen near the altar.

“Magic,” she breathed, hand stretching forward to caress the threads in the tapestry. She plucked at one, and a wisps shuddered, winking out into nothingness. 

The sudden fascination simmered down to a dull awareness, like a sixth sense knocking around in her mind. The colours were there, if she focused, and she could still trace the pattern of the weave, but they were like any other observation; background, ignorable.

Nkanyezi took a shuddering breath, reached out, and pulled at the weft keeping the stone above her head stable.


	7. Halfway Across The World

Deonte hesitated, one hand raised to push aside the curtain to Imani’s room. They were in an outpost in Takandi. Imani had sent off the majority of the Guardians that she had taken with her back to Mjimzuri, their capital, allowing only Deonte and Ashaanti to stay with her. She claimed had an important job for them.

The Guardian outpost in Takandi was a beautiful building, made of rich red earth with woven ladders that led up to the treetops. It was just bordering the savannah, where the trees were lower than those of the Korowen heartlands, but still provided shelter. Takandi was also known as the city of rivers: the Pori, the Johari, and the Mpole all fed into Takandi’s harbour. The Guardians rarely ventured this far. Deonte himself had never been to Takandi at all before. 

“Come in, Ley Guardian,” Imani said from inside. She sounded amused. 

He pushed the fabric aside and slipped in.

Imani was seated on the floor, fletching arrows. She had a small pile next to her, and her famed bow Mlinzi was resting against the wall. 

She looked up at his approach. “Is there a problem?”

“I wanted to know what you thought of Kibwe and Jengo.” The two rogue Guardians hadn’t been seen since, but Deonte couldn’t forget the incident.

Imani set aside her knife and stood, motioning for him to follow her. They went out onto the balcony and sat on the edge, legs dangling. The outpost was a tall building; if Deonte hadn’t loved heights, he would have been terrified at the lack of safety around the sides.

“What do you think?” Imani asked. “You’re the city man. You lived in the Magespire. Surely you’re much more used to intrigue.”

“Not really, no.” Deonte shrugged. “The only intrigue involved was who got the nicest view when rooms were being assigned.”

“You never thought to cheat?”

He laughed. “No. Why would I try to cheat? I always got it in the end.”

They shared a brief moment of good humour, before Imani sobered. She leant forward, her hands resting between her knees, her eyes trained on the horizon out to the east.

“There’s someone coming,” she said, and Deonte jerked to look up. “No, not literally. Someone is out there, and I know what they want. I just don’t know who they are.”

“The person Jengo and Kibwe were talking about.” Deonte relaxed and frowned. He summoned his staff with a vague gesture, and settled it across his knees. “They said something about ‘the clans’, too. But there haven’t been elven clans in centuries.”

“Not since Khunmatem fell,” Imani said grimly. “Which makes me very, very concerned.”

There was a call from above, and Deonte looked up to see Ashaanti scaling down. 

“Imani,” ey said, “I think you need to see this.”

Imani stood. “Show me.”

Deonte followed, tripping as he rose, and darted up to the branches behind them. Ashaanti wasn’t running, but ey was moving swiftly. The problem, he thought, was that he was the shortest of the trio, and Ashaanti and Imani occasionally forgot that his legs couldn’t quite carry him at the same speed. 

Across the lake, along where the Johari sped off east, a giant chasm had split the earth. The ground lay open, plunging into solid walls of stone. The rock was blood red. 

“What happened?” Imani demanded.

Ashaanti shook eir head, eir face stonier than ever. “One moment it was still, then the earth cracked open. Several dozen cattle lost, but no elves.”

Deonte closed his eyes and let out a breath, a quick prayer to Asha leaving his lips. They were lucky. He had seen similar earthquakes in Youseki, where the ground was faulted and cracked. It was not often that they occurred with no victims. 

They ran, heading straight towards Takandi village. The place was in chaos - farmers arguing with goatherds, panicked children running around, veterans trying to calm the masses.

Imani strode through, supremely uncaring. The veterans, many of them ex-Guardians, deferred to her immediately and began to rally at her directions.

“Help the villagers,” she said to Ashaanti, who nodded and jogged off in the direction of the town market. “Deonte, come with me.”

The canyon site was filled with loose rubble and potholes. Deonte’s boots were stained red by the time they reached the edge, and the edge of his overcoat in tatters.

“I liked this coat,” he said sadly.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Imani said. “Come.”

Deonte blinked. There was nowhere else to go but back, unless:

“You’re not saying we do _down_ there?”

Imani gave him a twitch of a smile, but her face shuttered quickly after. “Yes.”

She scrambled down the cliff face cautiously, her footholds secure and grip firm. Deonte, who had no intention of climbing down that on his own, touched a nearby rock and transformed it into a rope.

“Isn’t that spell supposed to turn things into snakes?” Imani asked at the bottom.

“Yes,” he said, shimmying down the last few metres. “But I don’t like snakes.”

Imani looked pointedly at his upper arm, where beneath his coat he had a bracelet in the shape of a coiled snake. 

He shrugged. He was from Youseki; it was almost obligatory for him to wear jewellery.

They had descended to a ledge in the cliff face, perhaps twenty metres from the canyon floor. It was quite a drop. Deonte knew instantly why Imani had left Ashaanti behind; ey would certainly have tried to flip off it. In the brief time he had known em, Ashaanti had proven emself to be the single most reckless elf in Korowe.

The sun burned down as they slowly picked their way down to the base of the canyon, where the soil was still wet and densely packed. A trickle of water spouted from one end - the earthquake had hit an underwater stream.

“What do you sense?” Imani asked.

Deonte frowned. “Faint magic, but nothing further than the natural echoes that are anywhere else. It does feel like a natural disaster.”

Imani shook her head. “It’s too convenient.”

“Convenient?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. 

She lead the way towards the stream, the ground still crumbling. A brief spark of anxiety built up in Deonte’s mind; what if the earthquakes weren’t finished, and there was another? They would be crushed, and while Deonte was quite happy to die in the service of Korowe, he had rather hoped to prove a bit more productive before then. A vain hope, it seemed, and he evened his breaths and tried to calm down.

As they drew closer, it became apparent that said stream came from what seemed to be a fairly decent sized tunnel; perhaps Imani’s height, give or take an inch. 

“Are we - ”

Imani gave him a bland look.

“We’re going in there.” Deonte sighed and hitched up his coat. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Imani did, ducking into the smooth cave. Deonte lit the end of his staff and followed her in.

The walls were smooth, but not in the way that rivers smoothened rock; they resembled the stonework that the dwarves were known for. Flat, carefully chiseled to create the appearance of being natural.

The ground was still moist, even as they descended down and the stream slowed to a trickle. Imani kept pausing to study the rock, running her hands along the walls and crouching to examine the water; at one point, Deonte followed suit, and found the water to be freezing cold. That wasn’t normal.

Eventually the tunnel branched out into a circular room filled with catacombs. This, certainly, was not naturally made.

“We can’t go further,” Deonte said incredulously as Imani stepped forward. “Not even you have that good a sense of direction.”

She raised an eyebrow, but he kept firm.

“We’ll get lost and I don’t have a ball of yarn with me.”

“Surely you could just remember the path we take?”

Deonte stared at her, and she stared back, and he laughed. She was being sarcastic. He hoped.

“Come on,” he said, just in case. “Ashaanti’s probably waiting.”

He tapped his staff on the floor, and a sigil flared in green light before disappearing. A magic mark - it would last until they returned and ensure the rock remained stable. 

He didn’t know how it worked, but it did, and he hadn’t had time to look into it.

The clouds had come in by the time they exited the tunnel. Imani did that weird thing where she apparently knew everything about the state of the universe from the direction of the wind or some rubbish, and said, “The town has calmed.”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Deonte asked. “How do you know?”

Imani pointed to the horizon, and he saw thin spires of smoke. “Cooking fires.”

Of course. He sighed, and lead the way; much as he always did.


End file.
